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“Because the contract is worth seven million dollars.”
“Seven million dollars,” she repeated with a little gasp. Claudia liked the independence wealth offered, but any job worth that much money had to be exceedingly dangerous.
“The dollar amount impresses you?” Louie asked with a raised eyebrow.
“It scares me, and it should scare you too.”
He shrugged. “It’s just another job.”
“For seven million dollars…I doubt it. Who does he want you to kill?”
Louie took a gulp of wine and then said, “An American.”
She crossed her legs. “Please tell me we do not have to travel there. You know I do not like working in America.”
“ ‘Don’t,’ ” he corrected her. “Remember, Americans don’t say ‘do not’; they say ‘don’t.’ ”
Her nostrils flared ever so slightly. “This is not a time for you to lecture me about syntax or idioms or whatever it is you call these things. Answer my question.”
“We will more than likely have to work in America.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Who is the target? And don’t say the president.”
“No, it is not the president.” He laughed.
She was running out of patience. “Name! I want a name!”
“Shhhhh…” He tried to place a hand on her knee but she slapped it away.
“Tell me right now!”
“Mitch Rapp.”
She blinked once and then twice and then slowly set down her glass. She stood and walked to the window. She checked the street, and then came back and in a voice barely above a whisper asked, “Why?”
“I didn’t ask him why. It is not my place.”
She folded her arms across her chest and said, “I thought you admired this man Rapp.”
“I do.”
“Then why do you want the job?”
“You don’t think seven million dollars is a good enough reason?”
“You have to be alive to enjoy seven million dollars.”
“I am not going to get killed.”
“You do not know that. This isn’t some banker, like the other day in London. This is Mitch Rapp. He bites back.”
“He will never see me coming.”
She walked from one end of the tiny apartment and back. “Who wants him dead?”
“Abel was not about to tell me.”
“I bet it’s the Saudis.”
